


One Night to Remember

by amatterofluck (lilithenaltum), lilithenaltum



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars
Genre: Concerts, Dancing, F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithenaltum/pseuds/amatterofluck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithenaltum/pseuds/lilithenaltum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I remember everything now, all the stark details, all the explicit glory of a one night stand. It's more than that to me, I know it shouldn't be...but it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

I can tell he likes my underwear, just from the way he watches me as I’m lying on the bed, legs crossed, one arm behind my head as the other lazily traces circles on my tummy. It’s full of butterflies, but I’m pretending, with everything, that I’m not as scared as I am. I’m terrified. If I hadn’t only had a granola bar and two packs of Gushers to eat, I’d probably be nervous enough to throw up. But I had been to excited about the show to even have a decent lunch and my tummy was pretty empty. There’s a bowl of fruit on the table in the hotel suite and I’m tempted to get up and snag a banana or two.

He’s just watching me.

He sits, cross legged, in the chair across from the bed and watches me, sipping his crown and coke and smacking his lips every so often. He’s been doing this for fifteen minutes, as long as I’ve been laying on the bed, half naked, staring at the ceiling. After we got to his suite, he said not a word, simply let me plop down on the bed and watched from his chair as I stripped out of my now ripped tank top and muddy boots, my skirt a wrinkled mess. I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy the danger though. It was just easier to lay around in underwear than in ripped, dirty clothing. Especially on this bed, plush mattress and thick (probably very expensive) down comforter. It’s freezing outside (at least to me, I’m cold natured and a Southern girl, so I’m used to 60 degree Novembers, not 20) and the heater’s on but I’m still cold. I try not to shiver. Shivering’s not sexy…is it?

With a soft sigh, and a turn of my body, I face him, daring to meet his hooded gaze, his eyes nearly glowing in the dim light of the suite. There’s a sort of predatory smile on his face, as he watches me, and it’s enough to make a sane girl run. I’m not sane, never claimed to be. Instead, it turns me on, even more so than I had been before. If we’re being honest, I’ve been turned on since the second he stepped out during “Escape”, joining his drum tech Evan on his set, moving like a king to sit on his throne. And though his brother was fun to watch and moved the crowd like a pro, it was the drummer that commanded most of my attention the entire time. Three shows under my belt and I was still taken aback by his drumming, his skill and passion, his concentration. He was a beast, a raging animal, and it was more than sexy how he commanded the percussion. 

It might have also had something to do with the fact that I knew what his hands felt like already…

My first show (at least on this continent) had been in Paris. General Admission and we managed to wiggle our way to the front and got smushed between the barrier and the throngs of French Echelon behind us. I waited afterward, along with tons of other fans, in the cold, dancing on my boots tippy toes, tugging the coat I’d brought along around myself and Kryssi. A few other Echelon, some we’d met in line hours before, came over and wrapped us in a huge blanket they all shared, and we snuggled close together, new and old friends, chatting as we waited patiently for our heroes to come say hi.

They finally did, forty five minutes after we made it to the buses, and they were in high spirits. Tomo was first, and just as cordial as he’d had been back at my very first Mars show in Atlanta 10 months before. I wasn’t expecting him to remember me (especially not since I wasn’t wearing the jacket Dottie made me) but he did, to my very pleasant surprise. He gave me a warm hug and we talked a bit and I felt more at ease, less nervous, when I finally met Jared. He was smaller in person than I imagined, and though I’d not ever really been sexually attracted to him, I couldn’t deny how beautiful he was. His eyes took me aback a little but he was incredibly charming and open, not at all like the horror stories I’d read had said he’d be. I guessed having Kat around lately had helped with that. I got the first two boys to sign some things for me and watched a starstruck Kryssi talk to Jared, before I realized that someone was staring at me. Hard. I mean, if you can feel someone looking at you…they’re staring at you pretty damn hard.

I’m usually the type to try and look who’s staring on the slick, but for some reason, I got the balls to actually turn my head and stare. Right at them. Into a pair of gorgeous hazel eyes. And then it dawned on me who was staring and every bit of my body went into panic mode-sirens screaming in my head, heart beating away like a hammer, blood rushing like an ambulance. I sucked in cold air as I’d been holding my breath unbeknownst to myself until my lungs burned. And even though my head was screaming and panicing and I was this close to freaking out, I couldn’t look away. He had me stuck, stilled in that one spot as he stared, through me, his eyes reading my mind, a little smile curled upon his lush lips. He could see what I was thinking I swore, or he could hear it, or maybe my eyes just gave me away. I sad not a word, still wrapped in part of the blanket as the other girls chatted with Jared and Tomo. 

He stood behind them some, in a black hoodie, practically invisible to everyone but me it seemed. No one really noticed him yet, as he was in the shadow of the bus, and for a few very long seconds, it was just me and him. No one else existed, not the fans behind me, not Kryssi by my side, nor Jeromine beside her. I didn’t feel my phone vibrate, I didn’t hear anyone talking, didn’t notice roadies and crew walk past and people rushing by. It wasn’t until someone said his name did the spell break, and everyone else notice him there. And then, the predator was gone, replaced with good ole sweet Shannon, bright eyed and smiling, hugging, shaking hands and laughing.

I was still in a daze, even while Kryssi and Jeromine pulled me along towards the taxis. I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want him to disappear into that bus, even though I’d see him again the next show. I wanted to stare at him more, wanted to feel his gaze on me. I wanted him to eat me alive.

Slowly…

But as I turned, fighting against them, he was gone. And as I stood there, feeling something in me curl up and cry, I hoped to god I could catch him again. I had to. I had to at least say hi.

The next show had been even more fun that the last, it seemed. Kryssi got on stage for Kings and Queens, and as me and the other girls stood below the stage, waving excitedly at her as she beamed, red faced and almost overwhelmed, I couldn’t help but let my eyes drift over to where they’d been nearly all night. He was jamming out with Tomo and Tim, while Jared pulled more people on stage. The grin on his face was infectious, almost innocent, genuine. This is what he loved. This was his heart and life and blood. And it was a pleasure, an honor, to be able to experience it with him. I smiled as they finished, as Jared got ready to begin the song. And in just the second between, he looked at me. Those eyes again, crinkled and glowing beneath the hot lights, the sweat dripping from his brow. His face eased into a secret kind of smile, one I felt he wore only for me. Even if it wasn’t true, I decided, against my better judgement to think of it that way. And then, with a blink of his long lashes, he was focused again, the Shanimal, ready to play, ready to tear the house down.

Kings and Queens was amazing.

But Jeromine was feeling bad so we didn’t get to wait for them after the show. Which was fine. I was, honestly, more focused on getting my friend to the hostel so she’d lay down and rest than seeing anyone else. She’d been overexerted, was all, and after some food and a night’s sleep, was fine in the morning. 

We moved on to Bordeaux. Ah. Golden Ticket night for both Kryssi and myself. I was more than nervous about the prospects of actually seeing him in the flesh now, up close and personal, than I had been that night in Paris. I somehow ended up last in line, and as my friends waited for me, I met the band, again. This time Shannon introduced himself. It was a practice in self control and every bit of will I had in me to not fuck something up. And even still, as he spoke to me, his deep voice stealing the breath from me, his eyes boring into mine again, I felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if he was someone I’d known for my entire life. And I managed to smother my butterflies, even when he touched my arm, pulled me close, and held me to him when we took my picture.

He was hot. Not just warm, but hot. Burning up. He was a walking, breathing, heater. Sweaty and solid and thick. Every inch of him pressed to me felt burned into me, and I swore, as I had to pull away and wave goodbye, that he was now a part of me. Though, if I was honest with the raging libido inside me, I wanted him really apart of me. Every inch of him. Even if I probably couldn’t take it and would more than likely make a fool of myself.

Sort of what I was doing right now… well, at least what I felt I was doing anyway. Laying on the bed. In expensive (and by expensive, I mean one and half paychecks worth of) La Perla lingerie and long black thick thigh high silk and wool socks. That was it. Oh, and I still had my triad on and the We Are One bracelet Arielle sent me. But other than that…yeah.

You see, after the meet and greet, when other fans stood outside to meet the band beside the buses, I got a tap on the shoulder. Turning around to see who it was, I recognized it as Evan, Shannon’s drum tech. He gave me a smile. “Melanie, right?” I nodded. “Well, Shan wanted me to give you this. He didn’t say what for but…well, anyhow…” He smiled a little bashfully, rubbed the back of his neck, and with a nod, turned and jogged towards the buses. I giggled a bit and then turned towards where Kryssi and Jeromine had wandered. As I walked I opened the carefully folded piece of paper.

I had to stop walking when I read what it said. 

 

You already know what I want. Meet me at my hotel. 

Room 3002

Knock three times

-S

I stopped short, staring at the paper for several times, rereading it over and over so that I was sure I was reading that right. He wanted to see me? Of all the girls here…I turned to see if I could catch Evan. Maybe he’d gotten the wrong Melanie. Melanie could be a French name too, after all. But he was gone, and I had no idea where to search for him.

I knew what hotel the boys were at because of the paper he’d written the note on. He’d circled the letterhead in red ink so I’d get the clue. I swallowed, suddenly thirsty, my tummy doing flips as I thought about what I was going to tell the girls. I took out my phone and bbm’d Kryssi quickly, letting her know Code 69 was actually real. Code 69 had been a joke between the girls in our Echelon Blackberry group when I decided to do the French shows. It was a way to cheer me up, saying if I managed to actually get a night with Shannon, I’d let them know where I was and what was up with just that code. Her message back was pretty funny, but I was all knotted up as I walked briskly towards the taxis. I needed a chance to calm my nerves before the boys got back to the hotel. Are you fucking serious omg fucking yes I knew it omg I’m telling Martina she’s going to fucking flip omg! I blew out a breath and gave a little chuckle, then messaged her back. Oh sweet jesus Krys…oh Jesus. I’m shaking like a leaf. This better not be a joke omg. I managed to hail a cab and using the little french Jeromine had taught me, instructed him to take me to the hotel. There was a cafe inside. I figured I could sit there a while as I waited on him.

A few shots might also help my nerves. 

It won’t be, promise. I smiled, sighed, and sat back as the driver pulled away from the venue. I’ll ttyl ok? Promise. love you. Closing my eyes, I steadied my breathing, clenched the note still in my hand, and focused on anything except what I was about to do.

I’m a whore, a little voice in me whispered. I frowned. Not this, not right now. I was nervous, yes, but I refused to feel guilty or shamed. I wanted to. I wanted him. Even if…well…maybe people wouldn’t approve but no one I didn’t trust would know anyhow. The people that would know I knew would never tell.

It’s just one night.

It’ll be fine.

Just have fun.

But it’s your virginity…

Ilu too, baby. Be safe. See you in the morning.

I stared at Kryssi’s reply and pushed every niggle of guilt and repressed slut shaming back as far as I could. I was going to do this dammit. We were at the hotel before I knew it, and as I paid my driver, I stared at the beautiful building in front of me. The lobby was posh, the cafe to the left. It was still open, and so I sat down at one of the little two chair tables, ordered a cocktail, and waited.

I sipped slowly. I didn’t want to be drunk but I didn’t want to be so wound up I couldn’t function. The vodka calmed my nerves enough to not be jumpy when I spotted Evan again. I’d been so lost in my own thoughts, I hadn’t noticed the slight ruckus outside. He walked over, still as cute as ever, blushing for some reason. “Um…hi, Melanie?” I smiled, nodded. “Same as before,” I said, and he laughed a little. “Well, um. He’s up there. In his room. He said you can come in if you wanna.” I nodded. Evan obviously knew what was going on. As I stood I left the bartender a tip and gathered my purse, then followed the drum tech to the elevator.

Room 3002

Room 3002

Third floor. To the right. Knock three times. As I stepped out, I realized that Evan was no longer behind me. “I swear,” I mumbled. “That kid’s something of a ninja.”

I stood in front of the door and stared, for probably ten minutes. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated again did I snap out of my stupor. I checked, only to find a facebook notification. Huffing, I raised my hand…paused…swallowed.

And knocked.

One.

Two.

ohdeargod

Three.

The sounds of shuffling and then the door slowly opened. I blinked, wiggled my toes in my boots and hoped I wasn’t getting mud on the plush carpeting. Or that I didn’t look a hot mess after being in the pit.

“Glad you came, Melanie,” he said, and I would have melted if the hallway wasn’t so cold.

So, where was I? Back to the present.

I’m still laying here and I turn to him and watch him now. He raises a brow. “Did you come all the way over here to watch me watch you,” he finally says and I snort. “Of course not. I came to see what you want. Or,” I say, as I prop my head up on my hand, “what you think I want. You know. Since you know what I want and all.” He smiled, that ‘I’m going to eat you up, little girl’ smile and sat his drink, nearly done, on the table beside the chair. “Of course I do,” he purred. “I can read it in every move you make, every sigh and breath and stretch.” I faltered, my guise of coolness and sexiness failing. “Oh, really now?” I managed to choke out and he simply nodded, leaned back in his chair.

Oh, and by the way? He was shirtless again. And wearing suspenders with his pants. I wondered idly if he knew my twitter account and had been reading all my tweets about my sexual frustration over those damn suspenders. Probably. Sneaky sonofabitch. 

“Well,” I say, sitting up, tilting my head to the side. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, then? I’m clueless, really.” He chuckles and crooks his finger, motions for me to come over. I raise a brow and he simply repeats the gesture, wordlessly. With a faux sigh of exasperation, I move, languidly, slowly swinging one of my long legs over and off the bed. I sit up and stretch, making him wait, watching his face as he watches me. This is hilarious. Or, it would be if I wasn’t shaking like a leaf. I force my body to calm down and stand up, then strut (literally, I’ve worked on my strut) over the few feet from the bed to the chair. “Yes, Mr. Leto? How can I help you.” He looks at me, eyes drinking in the sight of my body for a few long seconds. “Come closer,” he says, in something of an order.

Were this anyone else, I’d have been irritated and probably would have told him where to stick it. But it wasn’t. And instead of irritated, I was incredibly turned on.

I moved in between his parted legs and stood, legs spread apart a bit, one hand on my hip, the other playing with my triad necklace. If I kept my hands busy I might be able to keep from shaking like I was. Distraction. I needed a covert distraction. Only, it was damned hard to keep distracted from the way he eyed me, the way he licked his lips, or how he suddenly leaned forward, hands coming out to grab me by the thighs and pull me closer. His hands, those big strong calloused hands, stay right where they are. Stroking the skin of my thighs. Just soft enough to tickle. I do my damnedest to not squirm.

“I want you,” he says simply, and I let out a breath. “Oh?” “Yes. You.” I give a bit of a frown and lean forward a bit. “Why me? Of all the people in the venue, of all the girls-” “Because you’ve had me since “Kissing Bowties”.” I stand stock still, eyes widening, and almost lose my balance. I managed to not fall by catching a hold of the back of the chair, making me lean right into his face. “What?!”

Okay, let me explain something.

A long ass time ago (well, a few months before this) Shannon gave out his public email (now defunct, fuck a hacker, man) on twitter and encouraged us to all send him cool shit. And although I’m sure a bunch of…girls, sent him nudes, I decided that wasn’t ladylike, nor appropriate. Instead, I sent him an eight chapter smutty sexy fanfiction featuring…well, himself. And never heard shit about whether he’d read or not. I figured he hadn’t. Or had and deleted it.

But anyhow, the fact that he read it was one thing, but him connecting me to that fic was…well, um, yeah. You can guess how my tummy flipped, how my heart stopped. I did manage to connect that my email I sent it from was connected to my tumblr that was connected to my twitter that had an icon of myself on it. And, I’d been talking about France a lot on both sites. AND I’d posted tons of pictures of myself on tumblr (including a TT that was a nude photo of myself I deleted after 10 minutes and was really fun to do by the way). But the fact he made the connection still was overwhelming. And the fact that he had been following my blog and twitter was even more overwhelming.

Oh.

So he really did know what I wanted. Oh fuck.

Fuck.

He started to grin then and I backed up quickly, nearly falling again before he caught me. “Hey now, don’t freak out. It’s not a bad thing, by the way.” I just stared at him. I’m sure it was an act of god that kept me from passing out. “I enjoyed it,” he continued, and then, reaching up, cupping his hand on my neck, he pulled my face right in front of his. I could feel him breathing. “I enjoyed it very, very much,” he murmurred, and I swallowed, forgot to breath again. “Oh…well…that’s…hmmm.” “Come here,” he whispered, and I moved over, hooked my legs around the sides of the chair, and sat in his lap, facing him.

Well…this was…oh. Nice.

“You’re incredibly beautiful,” he said, playing with the strap of my lacy black bra. “Thank you,” I whispered back, heart pounding, all the blood in my body pooling between my thighs. “So very beautiful…and talented. You’re an amazing writer. You’ve got a gift, Mel,” he said, sincerely, and for a second, he wasn’t the predator, and I wasn’t the prey. For a second, I could feel he genuinely meant that, and it did more for me than words could really say.

Well, they could, but it’d be lengthy and abuse of a thesaurus, so…we won’t even try.

I smiled and the hunt was back on. Oh, wow, how’d my underwear get so damn wet? “You’re also very hard on yourself.” He frowned. Like, and I’m not joking, full on right out ‘I’m going to whip your ass’ frowning. He was upset. I was admittedly afraid for a while, but…his features smoothed. “Cut that shit out. Stop hating yourself. There’s been moments when I was afraid you’d…actually…you know.” And he looked so sad. I felt guilty. “I was one of your anons. Telling you to hold on. I couldn’t come off anon cause I don’t have a tumblr, but I didn’t…I couldn’t sit there and do nothing.” I felt my heart swell and I was this close to crying. I had appreciated those anons as much as my known friends. Random strangers telling me to hang in there. It had meant a lot. “Thank you,” I said again, my voice a bit choked up. “Thank you so much.” He gave me a soft, sweet, smile then and I couldn’t resist leaning in and hugging him.

He smells good. Even when he’s sweaty and dirty from playing a show.

He wrapped his arms around me then, kissed my ear, and every single nerve stood on end. He probably felt me tremble then because he gave a little laugh. “Nervous? You don’t have to be.” I snorted in spite of myself and wiped a few stray tears from my eyes, thankful I’d worn waterproof everything that night. “Well, since you obviously know everything about me,” I said, sitting back, adjusting my legs, “you can probably guess why I’m nervous.” He nodded. “Yes…and I said you don’t have to be. Though, I’m saying this as someone who hasn’t been a virgin in over 20 years.” I gave a nod of agreement and looked away, out towards the window at the sparkling city beneath us. 

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

He meant it. I watched him for a few seconds and deduced it from his bare bones stare. I contemplated the entire situation. I could walk away right now. I could probably sit right here, in his lap, the rest of the night and he wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want him to. I trusted him that much, and I’d just met him. Crazy, huh?

“Thing is…” I said, sitting up a bit, rocking against him, making him suck in a breath, “I really want you to.”

He searched my eyes, then, gripping my ass, pulled me up and placed the softest of kisses on my throat…worked his way up my neck to my chin…and finally…

He kissed me. On the lips. It was..well, incredible. Soft warm lips, perfect pressure, just enough to make me quiver, not too sloppy or wet, but not at all shy and reserved. He opened his mouth a bit and so did I, taking his tongue in my mouth, moaning a bit as his hands began to explore my sides, my hips. He bit on my lip gently, then drank my mouth in again, slowly, taking his time.

I was practically a puddle of goo when he finally pulled away.

“Do something for me,” he said, and as my fingers found his suspenders, snapping them with a sort of hazy, lust struck glee, I hummed in acknowledgement. “What do you want, Shannon?” He narrowed his eyes, grinned again. “Dance for me.” I gave him a glance and giggled again. “Dance? I can’t dance.” “Sure you can,” he responded. “Just move.” “There’s no music.” He nodded. “Not yet. But I’ll play whatever you want. Just dance for me.” I sat in his lap for a few more seconds and studied his face, took a breath.

He wanted me to dance, huh?

Well…

“Only if you sing for me.” He laughed then, eyes twinkling, and I felt something in my heart tug, hard. “I’m the drummer, baby, not the singer.” I gave him a little kiss on the nose and smiled. “Oh, I know that. But I know you can sing,” I retorted. “So sing for me, and you get a dance. And whatever else you want.” He bit his lip, let his hands wander to my ass, then gave it a light smack.

“Deal.”


	2. Part Two

I flipped through my phone and found the song I wanted to play. “Got anything I can plug this up with?” He nodded, digging around in his bag and found a pair of portable speakers. “That should, with the phone. Just plug the jack into your headphones…yeah, like that.” I did so and tested, using a Britney Spears song to do so. It worked, perfectly. “Really? Britney Spears?” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as he did. “No, of course not. Though Toxic is my song. Not the one I’m…here. This one.”

Starstruck. Santigold. I loved this song and found it one of the sexiest songs I’d ever heard. Great to give a lapdance to. Or any kind of slow, sultry dance. I turned up the volume as the music started, swaying a little, staring anywhere but at him. I couldn’t do this if I was looking at him. I pretended, with everything, that I was alone at home in my bedroom, the way I did some nights when I couldn’t sleep. It helped. Tremendously. It wasn’t until the chorus, though, that I really got into the music, lost myself. I slowly worked my hips around in tight circles, moving up and down and praying my knees didn’t go out on me. They didn’t. I tugged the ponytail holder from my messy hair and shook it out, bent over in front of him, and peaked at him through my parted legs, watching him as he grinned, laying back on the edge of the bed, one hand tapping along to the beat on his knee. Oh. So he liked it, then?

Good.

Confidence boosted by this knowledge, I moved over to where he sat and began to dance against him, hovering over his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek before giggling and spinning around again. I dropped down low, knees spread, and wound back up, my ass out, hands stoking my skin as I turned to face him. He was licking his lips, watching my breasts sway, my hips wiggle, the way my tummy clinched as I dipped and bent over. And before I knew it, I was a little breathless and the song was over. 

And he was looking at me like I was dessert. 

“Your turn,” I said, strutting over to the bed, plopping back down, and leaning back. “Sing for me.” He turned his head and raised his eyebrow, and I watched in a sort of strange fascination the way the muscles in his neck moved, the way the veins in his arms popped as he turned. And, not giving me a chance to register what was happening, he pounced.

He was on me like a starving man on a Christmas turkey. I gulped, even as his mouth came down on mine, those hands of his (good lord, his hands. Really, I can wax poetic about those hands) stroked my skin, found their way between my thighs. “Shannon,” I huffed, even though his mouth was on my throat, slowly kissing down my neck and collar bone. “Hmmm?” “Sing.” He picked his head up and met my gaze, eyes a delicious green gold, and then smiled slowly. “But of course.” He then kissed me between my breasts, cupping my right tit against my bra. “What do you want me to sing for you?” I shrugged, ran my fingers through his hair, and hoped to everything I wouldn’t die of a heart attack. My poor blood pump was beating that fast.

“Anything you want.” He gave it a little thought, and then, shifting himself so that he was wedged between my thighs, gripped my body close to his. “Alright then.”

And he began to sing. Softly, a little bit off key, but sing he did. And it was…well, it was really fucking lovely, actually. He doesn’t sound that much different from Jared, except, of course, he’s a bit deeper, grittier. And the song he sang had all the blood in my body rushing to my naughty bits.

“I was born of the womb of a poisonous man…beaten and broken and chased from the land…” He kissed me, pressing his lips slowly and hotly to my tummy. I shuddered, gasping as his fingers tugged on the waist of my tiny panties. “But…” and he lifted his head and grinned, “I rise up above it…high up above it and…” Nibbling on my neck he paused his singing, let his hands roam the expanse of my body softly, slowly. His fingers pressed and dug into my flesh, just enough to massage and stroke me. The heaviness of his body on top of mine was welcome and delicious, and I was no longer chilly. “See.” He whispered, and ground his hips into me, letting me feel his erection through his pants. I held on to his suspenders, tugged, and my eyes wandered down his chest to his hips where I realized he was not, in fact, wearing anything underneath.

Aha! Told ya Kryssi. You owe me 20 bucks, love.

Shannon’s lips found my neck, sucked a little of the flesh into his hot mouth and nibbled on it softly, making my entire body light on fire, my insides shake. He slid his hands behind me, and helped me out of my bra, then kissed a nipple before sucking it into his mouth and biting down, not enough to hurt, but just enough to sting. I groaned and my hips bucked against him, the thigh between my legs. He chuckled. “What are you laughing about, keep singing,” I managed to retort, have dizzy and a little out of my mind. “Yes ma’am,” he said with a grin and pushed his leg up, encouraging me to ride it. “Come on…” he whispered, hot into my ear. “If it feels good, go for it.” I swallowed and met his stare and he lifted himself up on both arms, biceps and triceps stretching and moving beneath his skin. Jesus. He started to sing again, lowering his head so his lips hovered above mine, so I could feel his breath on my skin. “I was hung from a tree made of tongues of the weak, the branches were bones of the liars, the thieves. Rise up above it…high up above it…and see…” As he sang, low and deep, he moved as my body did, grinding against him, my fingers digging into the suspenders still, my eyes locked with his. He kissed me then, slowly, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, wanting…no, needing him, on top of me.

“Do you want me to keep singing?” he whsipered, and I lifted my hips, allowing him to take off my panties, smothering the urge to keep my thighs clamped shut. I shook my head, only wanting him now, only needing whatever he would give me…no matter how afraid I was.

And afraid is really an understatement. I was scared out of my mind. 

He said nothing, simply worshiped every bare inch of me with his tongue, from my chin to my chest to my navel, moving down the bed as he did so. I could guess where he was going next and though I was anticipating it, though I wanted it more than air, I couldn’t help but feel all the breath in me sucked out my lungs, my skin so hot, my head so light I was scared I would pass out. “Pray to your god…open…open your heart..” I sang, trying to keep the butterflies in me from swallowing me alive, even though I can’t sing to save my life and I was shaking as I did so, “whatever you do…” He stopped, right above the dark curls between my thighs and stared up at me, wanting me to watch him as he continued further south. I swallowed, heaving breaths rising from my now sweaty chest. “Whatever you do…” he said, encouraging me to go on. “Whatever you do, don’t…don’t be afraid of the dark!” And with that he dived down, deep, into the core of me, his mouth now on my most secret parts.

Oh sweet merciful lord. I’m surprised I didn’t scream. I really didn’t make much of a sound, to be honest. I simply bucked up, against his face, and dug into the sheets beneath me, eyes wide, mouth open. This wasn’t anything like I figured it would be. It was better. It was wet and hot and…his tongue…and he…teeth and…fuck. I can’t really describe it, but if you’ve ever been on the receiving end of really good cunnilingus, imagine that. Got it? Okay. Rev that up by about, hmmm, I don’t know, ten. And you have what he was doing to me. Tearing me apart. Breaking me down into moaning and squirming and clawing little pieces of myself. His tongue traced out patterns on my clit as he hummed along, his hands gripped my hips, holding me down strong even though my body wanted to do otherwise. I wanted to move away from him and against him at the same time. “Sha…Shannon…” I gasped, needing something to clench and hold on to. The sheets weren’t cutting it. He lifted his hands a little and used his arms to keep me steadied, and offered me his own, and as I gripped them, I realized he was humming the rest of the song.

He slipped his tongue inside me then, using his teeth to scrape across my sensitive flesh, taking his sweet time. Every time I swore he’d let me cum, he slowed down and switched rhythms, changed patterns. I think he might have spelled the alphabet. Backwards. I don’t remember. I just know my body was a ripe peach and he was hungrier than a motherfucker, and my god… I must have tasted like fucking heaven or ambrosia or chocolate covered strawberries because he was in rapture himself. He watched me watch him, eyes hooded and glazed over with lust, and against my thighs, I could feel his hands start to shake. He slid his tongue from bottom to top, lavishing me with hard, long licks and I could feel it, right around the corner, at the tip of my toes. I moved against him in earnest now, needing to cum so badly. He sucked me into his mouth, over and over again, and using his right hand, slipped two thick fingers inside me. I cried out and arched my back, the penetration a little painful and unexpected, but when he curled them up and found something in me that shot pleasure through every inch of me, I forgot about the invasion. And as he stroked me, licked and nibbled and ate and devoured me, I began to cum, hard, clenching around his fingers, my head spinning, eyes closed as I let out a scream of pleasure. He sucks up every drop of me, moaning as he does, and I’m tingling, throbbing still.

I could go again, honestly. Really. I’m being greedy, probably, but at this point, no fucks were given. I needed more. I needed the real fucking deal. I wanted, had to have, needed him inside me, stretching me, pushing and pulling and driving himself back and forth inside me.

And apparently he needed it too cause he was snapping those suspenders off while I lay in bed, sweaty and naked, trying to catch my second wind. He tugged his pants down and I watched, wide eyed and a little bit like a giddy schoolgirl that catches her sexy English teacher naked-

Wait. That’s…

Yeah, nevermind, that’s exactly what it was like. Carry on.

He pulled his pants down and I followed the lines of his body down…down…until…

Oh. Oh god. Yeah. That shit ain’t gonna fit. All the KY in the fucking world is not going to get that in me. I clenched, even as I winced, and he noticed, laughed a little. “Trust me, it’ll fit. I’m not even that big.” I snorted, raised a brow and tried not to call him a lie. “What the fuck do you call that then?!” I asked, and he laughed full out then, crawling back up my body as he shucked the pants off. I could see his thick ass if I peaked my head up a bit. Delicious. Fuckin’…girl. Yes. Ummm yes lord.

What was I saying? Oh. Excalibur. Yeah. 

“It’s average, darlin’.” His eye twinkled and as he lay over on top of me, urging my thighs to part so he could settle between them, I frowned. “Average my ass. That shit’s bigger than fucking average.” Maybe if I cussed like a sailor I wouldn’t be freaking so bad. Because I was realizing that this thing was going to be in me and this was going to fucking hurt and I had no fucking idea what the fuck I was doing. (That’s a lot of fucking, Mel, you’ll end up pregnant…har. har. har.) It didn’t dawn on me that I’d said all of that aloud until he snuggled himself against me, kissing my collarbone, his hands stroking me gently. “You’ll be fine. I won’t hurt you anymore than I have to.” I still let out a bit of a whimper and he kissed my lips then, smoothed my hair back. He pressed his lips to my forehead and whispered for me to open my eyes, look at him.

“It’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll go slow. Besides,” and he reached down between us, slipped his fingers inside me again, making me arch a little, “you’re ready for me. You’re so wet.” He practically purred the last bit and I was even wetter and maybe, just maybe this will fit because I was Niagara Falls down there by then. “Okay,” I whispered back, lifting my knees some, spreading my thighs wider. “Ready for this?” he asked, and I nodded.

I was.

Not really, but if he didn’t do this now I was going to chicken out and I wasn’t about to chicken out. I gripped his hips and digging my fingers into them, held my breath as he steadied himself above me, one hand holding his body weight, the other parting my lower lips and guiding his cock to my entrance.

Un

Deux

Trois…

Holy shit.


	3. Part Three

Do you remember the first time, as a kid, maybe playing around in the kitchen as your mom or grandma made lunch, that you shocked yourself? Maybe on the socket beside the table where she usually plugged in an air freshener. Maybe on a frayed, worn out extension cord your dad had promised to replace but hadn’t gotten around to doing. Do you remember that feeling? It’s the strangest pain, and honestly, you can’t really even describe it, but you know what it feels like. Especially if it ever happens again…and being a kid, it usually does, doesn’t it? Still doesn’t make it feel any less strange, any less unusual and one of a kind, does it?

What I’m trying to get at is this: I can’t, and by can’t, I really can not, describe to you just exactly how it felt the very first time…well, you know. But if you’re not a virgin (and you’re a girl) you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s the strangest feeling. It’s (sometimes, depending on your partner) painful. And it never ceases to feel strange, unusual, one of a kind. Like being shocked.

That’s what it was like. I was shocked. 

I don’t remember making much noise, though there was some kind of rush of breath from my lungs and I do think a bit of a moan, partly in pleasure and ‘oh my god I’m actually going to do this and oh my god he’s actually in here’, but mostly in pain. Jesus Christ. 

He’s big. He’s really big. I mean, he’s big just looking at that thing, but…well. Sigh. TMI time: my gyno once told me that I’m unusually tight down there. Which is true; I don’t wear tampons because they’re uncomfortable, and he uses child size instruments on my visits. I can’t fit but two fingers in there and that’s only if I’m good and lubed up. You can guess he’s bigger than two fingers. Multipy that by about three. Yeah. Ouch, right? Anyway, I’d always heard rumors that the Leto boys were well endowed (especially Jared, remember the ‘Hurts Like Satan’ story?) and though I didn’t doubt that, I didn’t really think it’d be…like this. He’s not…well, he’s not swinging a fucking anaconda from his pelvis, but that shit rivals a goddamn coke can. And a coke can up your hoo ha, when you’re a virgin and tighter than a diamond mine is…kinda…well, shit, it’s fucking tragic.

So I’m just kinda curled up around him now, eyes tight, not breathing because if I breathe, I’ll move and if I move, it’ll hurt worse and I wanna cry, and I probably am, I don’t really know. I just know that if he moves I’ll probably kill him. He doesn’t. He presses a kiss to my forehead and he’s breathing hard. Like he’d ran a 10 mile marathon in 100 degree heat with no water and a sweater on. Carrying an elephant. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered and for some reason, that made me really wanna cry. “It’s not your fault,” I choke out, still snuggled up by his neck, and I finally have to breathe and it doesn’t hurt, surprisingly. I just better not shift any. “I mean, you didn’t exactly ask to have a dick that big.” He’s trying his damdnest not to laugh, bless his heart, and truth be told, if I wasn’t still burning down there, I’d probably be laughing too. “Course not, darling,” he murmurrs, and it dawns on me, he sounds like he’s in about as much pain as I am. I crack my eyes open.

“Are you okay?”

He huffs out a breathe, pauses, shakes his head. Gives a little laugh. It shifts me. That hurts…but…not…as much as I thought it would. A few more minutes. Just…it’ll stop hurting in a few more minutes. Probably. I hope.

“What’s wrong?” He’s not the one that just lost her virginity and to someone with a fucking dinosaur for a penis. Okay, this sounds unfair. It sounds like he just fucking impaled me on the thing and he didn’t at all, and so let me backtrack a bit.

When he pushed, slowly, against me, against my entrance, I held on. Tight. Curled up around him. And he pushed forward. Slow as molasses, struggling to not hurt me, even though he knew he was anyhow. I made no sound, but it still was painful. I’d never in my life been stretched like this. It was the weirdest mix of stinging pressure and stretching and it was not unlike going from a 12g piercing to a 4g in one huge leap. But he was gentle, mind you. Just clarifying.

Ok. Anyhow…

He waits, shudders a little against my skin and lifts his head, meets my gaze. If I don’t wiggle I don’t feel any pain. Huh…that’s good. Still feels weird as fuck though. (Ha…ironic. Weird as fuck.) “You’re tight.” I nod. I know that, duh, tell me something new, dear. “Yeah. And.” He swallows and the way his Adam’s apple bobs kinda does something to me and maybe I’ll be able to do this after all. “Really tight. Like…” He pauses again. “Shannon.” He stares at me. Blinks. His lips part and he licks them and then blinks again. He has pretty eyelashes. Really pretty eyelashes.

“You’re tight as fuck, darling, and if I move even a little, it’ll be over in three strokes.”

I realize what he means and it’s like a lightbulb goes off in my head. Oh. Ohhhhh. Well damn. “Sorry.” He shakes his head a little bit. “Not your fault. It’s not like you asked to have an impossibly tight vagina.” And I snort and can’t help laughing because he just turned my joke back around on me and oh my god I love this man’s humor.

Even during sex. While he’s struggling to not cum and I’m trying to not hurt. Why aren’t we married? Oh. We just met. Welp.

He groans then, shifts just a bit, and it doesn’t really hurt now that I think about it. But I feel…really…full. Impossibly full. Like I’d split if he moves too fast. “Do you want me to try moving a bit? We don’t have to…thrust all the way, I can just rock a little. Get you used to it.” I nod. Sure. Whatever. I’m trying to be as nonchalant about this, but it’s hard to not take to heart how sweet he’s being right now. He could just fuck me senseless and keep it moving and call me a cab, but he’s not. He’s trying to make this good for me.

Heart, hey. Stop that tugging shit.

So he begins to rock. Slowly, just a little, and then a little bit more every few seconds until he’s moving at a nice little pace. He’s still not actually going in or out, but…well. I won’t lie and say this doesn’t feel good. Cause it does. I close my eyes again and relax some, at his gentle insistence, and simply focus on his kisses to my throat, my neck. It’s comforting. Or the way his hands grip my thighs as he spreads my legs, wide as he can. The power that lies in his hands. And how he’s restraining all of that for my sake. After a few minutes of this I kinda dare myself to move against him and I do and it does hurt a tad bit, but only for that sharp second and then it’s a weird tugging feeling…but not entirely unpleasing. “You can…move more now,” I whisper, and he stops, watches me. “You sure?” I nod. I am. Really, I am. I think I can take a little more. He shifts back, sliding out of me some and I don’t even try to stop the sound that comes out of my mouth. Because it doesn’t hurt. It feels…wow. That feels…well, I’m not going to try to describe it. 

I can’t describe it.

And then, with a heartbeat between us, he pushes forward, and I let out a little cry. Because, yeah…that definitely feels good. Even though, truth be told, it still does kinda hurt. I’m liking it though, the mix of pleasure and pain. I didn’t think I would but I do. So I lie back more, my body now arching from the bed and he begins to move, thrusting inside me, back and forth, in slow, deep thrusts and shit…that feels…dear god. That feels incredible. I let my hands wander, first up his strong arms and shoulders and down his back, where I rest them in the small of it. I’m in love with that back. My fingers curl and dig into the skin there as I lift my thighs up a bit higher and he slips deeper and I’m very very wet now, and it’s easier for him to move. A lot easier. Maybe things just needed to get warmed up, put into use. Cause although there’s still that slight sting, it’s more pleasure than anything. An undercurrent of what is to be my first orgasm from intercourse ripples through my body and hums and throbs between my thighs. He moves a little faster when I moan.

It’s a bit strange describing something like this. I mean, people read dirty romance novels all the time with descriptions of sex acts, but honestly, to tell you what it really felt like to have him moving inside me is…strange. It’s not embarrasing, at all. Just…not something I can really put into words. It’s only really something I could feel. He took his time, slow and steady, every so often picking up his pace until he was moving rapidly inside me, against me. I don’t even think I realized I was moaning until he said something about it. “I don’t think you understand just how sexy you sound right now,” he panted and I kind of focused on what exactly was coming from my throat. Didn’t sound a thing like the pornos do, more organic, more natural. I could hear the sliding of his sweat slick flesh against mine, the wetness between us, and it was erotic, real. It was better than anything from any movie, any cinemax late night flick, any smut fic. And it was actually happening to me…finally.

He wrapped his arms around my body then, pulling me closer to his chest and his heart beat like thunder against mine. I listened to the rhythm as he circled and shifted his hips, faster, deeper, and I moaned and begged him to keep going. I was coming undone. “Give me your hand,” he whispered, voice trembling a bit and I did, and sliding it down below, he pulled out, just enough so that he was still joined with me but enough so that my fingers could feel his girth. Jesus…He slid back in then and I groaned, marveling at how something that thick and powerful (and fucking delicious) could disappear inside me. He gestured for me to keep my fingers there and I did, even as he pumped a little harder again, faster still, even as I wrapped my thighs up around his hips and my legs around his waist. One hand clenched his sides, the other felt the pistoning between us and my mind was spinning, my body coiling like a spring. And I held on, learning the rhythm of something ancient and old as humanity itself, my own hips meeting his. I found his pace, and moved against his thrusts and for what felt like forever, but honest to god wasn’t long enough, nothing in the world existed but Shannon and I. Just him, and me and his body and mine, and then…we were one person and we moved inside and around each other and nothing in the world was ever as incredible as this.

Nothing.

I began to feel the first inklings of my orgasm as he worked my body, his kisses deep and slow and smoldering. He’d kiss me then meet my eyes and just stare into them, trying to read my thoughts, or maybe search my soul, whichever. And then he’d kiss me again, the same way. He’d whisper ridiculous shit to me, against my lips, things that meant nothing more than likely, but goddamn it, I was going to pretend they did at that moment. It’s interesting to note that hearing how beautiful you are, when a man as beautiful as he is is moaning it on your mouth, never gets old or feels fake or unwarranted. It’s also interesting how your mind can pretend he really means his adulation of devotion and love. I love you came out a few times. I love this, I love you, oh god yes, move with me darling, come on, move with me. Deep and low, trembling. It was almost intoxicating to have that kind of power of this man even though I didn’t think I was doing anything but lying beneath him, working with him to reach our climax. And then it reached a point where neither of us could really say anything intelligible, just gasps and moans and pants and mmmhmm’s and ahaaa’s and groans of pleasures we couldn’t quite express. I could feel the bed beneath me rock and move as he pumped, faster, faster, harder, hotter, heavier, please, yes…”Shannon, please I wanna…” I cried, but I don’t think I finished anything I was about to say. 

Shannon gripped the headboard and I let my thighs fall open, taking him eagerly and deeply, fully. I opened my eyes and let them drink in the expanse of him stretched over me like a canopy, sweaty skin and dark night, just his heat and mine, his breath and mine, his sweat and mine. Ours. It was ours now. We shared everything, even the way we called out for more, and harder, and right there, right there, oh god right there.

Because I was cumming. It was on the precipice, I could feel it, taste it, reach out and grab it and all he had to do was not stop. Don’t. Stop. Don’t. Stop. Don’t…

In. Out. Up, around. In. Out. “Cum for me,” he ordered, and the combination of the desperation in his voice and the authority in his tone set me off. And as he snapped his hips once, twice, three times I fell. 

I’ve never had an orgasm like that before. I was swimming but drowning at the same time, struggling for air, but enjoying the asphyxiation, my body a string, his the bow and he played me like a violin and I sang for him, clenching around him, too tight for him to really move, and he growled, groaned, choked with me. The lights behind my clenched shut eyes went black, white, dancing stars, and pure bliss as my nails dug and raked his skin, into thick muscle. I drew blood, I could feel it underneath my fingernails. He would leave a bite mark on my collarbone, as he bit down when he came and I screamed, half in hazy pleasure and sharp pain. I was going to die. I wanted to. I wanted nothing more than to never wake up to anything else but this, this pleasure and rapture and this was probably what heaven was like, and I wasn’t worthy. I drank every bit him in, milked every drop of his hot seed inside me, sucking in oxygen I’d denied my poor lungs as I somewhere, in the back of my tangled mess of a mind, registered the way it felt when he came inside. He kept moving for a little bit afterward, aftershocks running through me as he slumped and breathed against my skin, almost crying for air. And I held on to him, shaking, helpless.

He finally slowed to a stop, still half hard inside me and as I came down, little by little, I wanted to sob, wanted to be high like that again. He wrapped me in his arms and held me, not moving, not withdrawing, simply holding me. I didn’t have to say anything. He already knew what I wanted and needed as I moved my hips, up and around, ever so slowly and deliberately. I panted and slid my thighs against him, against his skin, feeling the throb and ache in my core shoot up to 100, my blood race and rush inside my body.

I needed more. Much, much more.


	4. Part Four

If you stood on the outside of Room 3002 you could hear several things: the squeak of a bed, the pants and deep growls of a man, and the moans of a woman in ecstasy. If you listened close enough and singled out every sound, you could hear the slap of flesh on flesh, the rustle of damp sheets as positions changed, the hiss of pain as fingernails dug into skin.

But when you’re on the inside of Room 3002, you’re not exactly listening for anything. The only thing you’re doing is feeling. Especially when you’re the woman aforementioned, underneath the man aforementioned, ankles hooked behind the small of his back, slightly bloody fingernails pinioned into his shoulders. I can honestly say I don’t really think I gave a fuck if anyone stood outside of the door, listening to us make love. I just know I never wanted this to end. And neither did Shannon. Not even the pain, not even as I pressed my forehead to his chest and cried out, as his hips pushed and shifted hard and swiftly against me, his cock stretching me in that delicious pain/pleasure combination that I so loved. I was quickly discovering that pain was a kink of mine and that I shared it with my lover. He gasped, shuddered, and pushed deeper still whenever my mouth found his neck and bit down. And considering how fucking good he felt inside me, I’m thinking I may have bit down a tad bit harder than I would have had I been in my right mind.

I wasn’t in my right mind. Shit, I wasn’t in my mind at all. I was crazy. I was starving, devouring every inch of him, taking anything he’d give me. Round two. I came, hard, shouting my orgasm out into the air and tugging at his dark hair while his mouth sucked and nibbled on my nipples. Round three and he hadn’t cum again yet, and I was this close, this close, thighs aching, sheets strewn half off the bed and breathless body now perpendicular to the position I’d been in when this started. He flipped me then and the world halted and suddenly I was wide eyed and out of my element. I could handle him now, wet as I was, as hungry and needy as I was for his body and kiss and touch and taste. But I honest to god didn’t think I could take him this way.

Not on top, come on now, dude…really?! I’m new at this, are you forgetting?! 

He seems to read my mind, his face read and sweaty and he has the fucking audacity to laugh. “Don’t look at me like that, baby girl,” he pants, and he bucks up, making me moan as he hits just the right spot, just where I want him to keep thrusting. Only…I’d rather him be on top, not me. I can’t do this. I can’t. “I don’t know what I’m doing…I don’t. I’m…” I can barely manage to breathe out the words and I’m about to panic, even though my body is on fire and I want to cum, so bad, again, please Shannon make my body scream. He moves his hips, slowly, up and down and he slides against me but it’s not enough. And he knows I know it’s not. 

The only way he’s going to make me cum is if I ride him. Oh god. “I can’t do this,” I whisper, and he rubs my thighs, grips my hips. “Yes…yes you can. Sit up for me,” he orders, but he’s gentle, soothing. I obey. “Just do what I say,” he continues. “Don’t panic. This isn’t win or lose. Just do what feels good to you. I guarantee it’ll feel every bit as amazing to me as well.” I closed my eyes, and pressing my hands onto his chest, nodded. “Okay…okay.” He met my eyes and breathing deeply, smiled. ”Push your hips forward. Rock with me.” I did like so, and he slipped deeper inside of me, pushing right against my spot. He swallowed a groan, and blinked the sweat from his eyes. “Now shift backward…yes, yes, darling, just like that. Fuck…now…rock just like that. Back and forth.” I began to move, slowly and unsure and though this felt fucking fantastic, I was still afraid I wouldn’t measure up to anyone he’d ever had before. I struggled to push the thought from my mind and tried just feeling, no thinking. Stop that, Melanie. Just feel and move. 

After a few times doing that, it got easier. Every thought manages to get easier to get rid of when shit feels that damn good. I watched his face and relished the way he closed his eyes, swallowed, and moaned as I rode him, slow and hard, pushing against my spot with each forward move. I got a little confident then, and put some rhythm in my hips, leaned forward so he hit my clit when I pushed up and then forward and couldn’t hold back from crying out when he began to move with me. It threw me off at first, but he grabbed my hips and helped me find my pace again. He spread his own legs and angled his hips up and met me, move for move, circling and stroking just the right spots to send me reeling. 

This was…wow. I had power. I was doing this myself. I was in control. I tried different angles, leaning back and discovered it meant he could get deeper. Forward meant he could stroke my clit just right. And if I got on my knees just right, pushed my body up, slowly, then back down, fast and hard, I could hit all kinds of places I didn’t know about. It was like driving a standard; confusing and uncoordinating at first, but easier the more you did it.

Ha. I was driving Shannon’s stick. 

I snorted at my own little joke and he smacked my ass, huffing, his eyes glowing as he glared at me, a feral grin on his face. “The hell..you laughing…about. Move, woman.” I rolled my eyes, even as I moaned and hissed some at the intensity of whatever spot I’d just hit. “Oh fuckin’ hell, hush your mouth, boy,” I groaned, and he smacked my ass again, bucking up hard, biting down on my neck as he leaned forward. “Back talking me, huh? Just cause you’re on top? Are we getting a big head now?” I moved faster, harder, needing to cum again, and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. “You’re the one that put me up here in the first muh’fuckin’ place…so shut…the hell…oh…fuck…fuck.” I was losing my steam, the bravado disappearing as I simply wanted nothing more than to lose myself in this feeling. He slid his hands into my hair and pulled my lips to his, whispering against them. “That’s what I thought. Now hush, little girl, and fuck me like you want me.” 

That’s all he had to say.

The next few minutes were simply a mess of yes and please and lots of expletives. I don’t think I’ve ever said fuck and shit so many times in my life as I did in the space of those short two and half minutes. The orgasm built and built and coiled inside me and it was right there but goddamn it, I wasn’t cumming. I was getting frustrated. “Shannon!” I cried, and he moved inside me faster, leaning back on one arm and shifting his hips up with near painful tenacity as his other hand gripped my hip, hard, and pushed me up and down and back and forth on top of him. “Just keep movin’,” he panted, and he strained to hold out, right on the edge of his own orgasm. “Don’t stop, baby girl, you’re almost there.” I closed my eyes, bit my lip and kept moving, just the way he said. I listened to the rush of blood in my head, the pounding of my heartbeat, the way he sounded as he moaned my name, over and over. I focused on the feeling of him inside me, the touch of his hot, heavy hand on my skin, or how his skin felt sliding against mine.

Almost…come on, almost. I just need…

And it’s like he could read my body and knew what I needed to tip me over, becasuse the second he told me to open my eyes, look into his…

“Melanie…look at me…look…yes…cum for me baby, just fall.”

And that’s all it took. Looking into his eyes and hearing my name fall from his lips like that. My back arched, my hips grinding desperately, I closed my eyes and rode the wave out, the breath escaping my lungs as I shook on top of him. He came then, his fingers digging painfully into my hips as he pressed his head into my bosom and groaned, still pushing and thrusting slowly as we came down. I collapsed on top of him and he lay back, slipping out of me and I gasped, then whimpered at the loss. He cradled me to his chest and I struggled to even my breathing, keeping my eyes closed because of the way my head swam, of how dizzy and light headed I was.

I don’t know how long we lay like that. The sweat cooled on our skin, the air was now no longer hot and sticky, but cold, and I shivered, even though Shannon’s hot body rested beneath me. He moved his hands up my back, stroking my skin softly. “Cold?” I nodded. “Chilly, mostly.” He hummed a bit and I could feel it reverberate through my own chest. “Wanna take a shower?” I picked my head up a little. Looked at him. Thought about it.

“Sure.”

Walking is surprisingly easy. I was sure I’d be a sore mess and I’d be walking like a cowboy stuck in the saddle too long, but it’s just a little bit swollen down there and a tad uncomfortable. Nothing I can’t handle though. I swung my legs up and over the side of the bed, stood up slowly, as I was still a bit punch drunk, and grabbed his waiting hand. The bathroom floor was freezing and I wiggled my toes, hopped from one foot to another, as Shannon adjusted the shower settings, asking me to test the water with my wrist. “That too hot?” I shook my head. I love a good hot shower, let me tell you, and as sticky as I was right then, I’d take one as hot as I could stand it. “Just right,” I said, and got right in.

We stood there, the two of us, for a few minutes, just enjoying the hot spray of the water. I rested my chin on his shoulder and closed my eyes, letting the water relax my muscles, stream down my back. His hands stroked and slid against my wet skin, slowly and soothingly, and I kissed his neck, smiling against his skin as he chuckled a little. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, softly, and I nodded a bit. “Mmmm…yeah. We should probably soap up soon or we’ll end up falling asleep in here.” Shannon nuzzled his nose on my temple and kissed me there, and I felt my heart melt. “Yeah, probably. Let me just grab the soap, love.”

Oh. Don’t…don’t do that. Don’t do that to me, please.

I ignored the way my heart pounded when he called me that and let him bathe me, let his hands roam the expanse of my body. He was thorough and quick, and as I washed him in return, I mapped the lines of his body, the way the muscles in his back and hips wrapped around his frame, how strong he stood, or the way his eyes drooped in pleasure as I found a spot in right below his shoulder blades and scratched gently. I couldn’t resist pressing my body into his, feeling all that man and power and flesh against my own, and he pulled me tight against him. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” he said, his eyes glittering in the bathroom light, his nose brushing mine. He grinned and I licked my lips, wanting nothing more than to drink him in again. To feel him in me again. 

Oh, wow. This is interesting. This libido of mine? Yeah, it’s kind of out of control right now. I could feel my skin prick, my blood rush, my body react again, just from the low bass of his voice, and he could’ve probably read me the phone book in that moment, and it would have set me off. Jesus. I needed to pull myself together, or he’d be stuck in that bed for the rest of the damn year. Not that I had anything pressing to do the next two months, but he did and I was sure being the cause of his absence would suck. Especially if I had to deal with the Little Leto’s wrath. Yep. I better get this out my system right now. I leaned in then and smiled, pressed my lips to his, slow kissing him deeply just the way he loved kissing me. “I’m insatiable” I whispered, and he raised a brow. Then, bucking his hips forward, he let me feel just how insatiable he was as well. Oh. I can handle this. I can work with this. “That’s how we’re doing it then?” he responded. I pulled him into another kiss and he wrapped me into his arms, gripping my ass as he lifted me and I wrapped my legs around him. I needed the bed. Now. “That’s exactly how we’re doing this,” I breathed, and he smacked my bottom just enough to sting.

But I wasn’t going to let him get away with simply driving me crazy. I was going to make him beg for me before the end of the night. That was a promise.


	5. Part Five

The air outside the bathroom is cold as fuck, and thank god Shan’s carrying me, cause I’m sure the tiling on the bathroom floor is as well. I’m shivering by the time he puts me on the side of the bed, and grins. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll warm you up soon enough.” I bite my lip and suppress the grin that wants to spread across my face from his term of endearment. “You call all the girls darling?” He shakes his head. “I don’t usually call em anything, truthfully,” he says with a shrug and slides his hands up my thighs, tugs my shivering body closer to the edge and closer to him. He’s kneeling in front of me. I raise an eyebrow and automatically wrap my legs around his waist. “Oh?” He nods, leans in, and kisses me below my ear, his hands gripping my hips now, and I spread my legs wider, eager to take him again. “And, if we’re going to do the comparison game right now,” and he looks at me with a mixture of chastisement and slight amusement, “all the girls are usually gone by now. You know. Before I get my shower?” I swallow and try not to blush in embarrassment, but part of me thinks I shouldn’t believe him, anyhow. I mean, he’s a rockstar, he’s had all kinds of women, he probably tells them all this, right? But I also don’t wanna believe Shannon Leto would lie. Except, well…he’s human. And all humans lie. And lots of humans lie when they’re having sex just to keep having more.

I end up snorting in response and he leans back, frowns a bit. “You don’t believe me, darling?” I shake my head. “Of course I don’t,” I say, and tug him closer. I really just want him to shut up and fuck me and not dash my little glass bubble, where I’m the only woman that matters, into pieces. But it’s important to not be too delusional, of course. It’ll make the comedown, the next morning, that less painful. He pauses and searches my face and I try to mask the way I want to curl up in his arms and cry and tell him that I’d believe any word he says. I don’t think I was fast enough. “That’s sad,” he says, finally, and it sounds like I’m breaking his heart, and if he were an actor I’d really think better than that, but he’s not. (Well not really…his wiki says occasional, and he’s had a total of probably an hour of screen time…anyhow…) “How so?” I ask, tossing my head a little and wiggling my toes against his ass cheeks. Are you gonna fuck me or not, Shannon? It’s freezing. “Because I’m telling you the truth. Because even though you don’t really have a reason to believe me, you should.” “Why?” He says nothing then, instead, shifting upward and then pushes inside me, slowly still as he’s sure I’m still sore and it’ll still hurt.

It does. Well, he’s considerate, at least, even if he is lying. Which maybe he’s not. I’m not sure anymore. I just wince and breathe and focus on anything but the pain right now. He lets out a breath himself, and then begins to move. Slow, deliberate thrusts. As if he’s trying to make a point. He’s staring at me, right into my eyes, relentlessly, not blinking, no looking away. And I match his stare for as long as I can, until the pain slips under and is replaced by pleasure and I’m moving at the edge of the bed with him, my toes just barely touching the carpet, my hands gripping the mattress as I arch my back and work my hips faster, harder. I close my eyes and let out moan after moan, trying to get lost in what’s going on between my legs and not what’s raging around in my head. But I’m losing it, I’m losing my steam and I can’t focus and I don’t realize I’m crying until he grabs my hips and stops me, until he stops moving. Shannon’s face is turned up into something like a frown or a sob, I’m not sure which at this point because I can’t see through my tears. He withdraws and stands up, crawls over me into the bed, and then pulls me against him. I’m still sobbing like some dam inside me has broken, not really conscious of anything right now except how pitiful I must look. I’m sure the other girls never cried during sex. I’m sure the other girls knew all the right flirty words to say and how to ride him right and didn’t wince and cry out in pain because they could handle how big he is. I bet the other girls never said stupid shit about him lying to them because they didn’t care if he lied to them.

I bet the other girls were better than I am.

He’s rocking me in his arms now, holding me, his lips on my temple, and he’s whispering something in my ear, though I don’t register what it is. I just know that if he keeps this up I’ll never stop crying. I probably shouldn’t let him do this. It’ll make tomorrow worse. Because one night stands don’t behave this way. They don’t cradle the girls and tell them that it’s okay and that they’re here, don’t cry baby girl, I’m here…I got you. But I don’t have it in me to stop him and god knows I don’t want to. I just want him to be here. I want him to hold me. And I want to stop crying.

But I can’t.

I finally do stop crying, after what seems like ages. It’s really probably been only about 15 minutes though. I’m hiccuping, wiping the now defunct makeup from my eyes and staring at the ceiling. Shannon’s arms are still snug around my body, his chin on the top of my head. He’s humming. Something slow and sweet and really pretty. I’m not sure what it is, but I swear I’ve heard it. I think. “What…what is that you’re humming?” My voice is creaky, like I haven’t used it in fifty years and I swallow, my throat dry and it burns some. I wish I had a drink. He snuggles closer to me, and his fingers, I realize, have been stroking the skin of my tummy, underneath the covers he pulled over us. “It’s a Smashing Pumpkins song. ‘In The Arms of Sleep’.” I turn a little, my face coming into contact with his throat, and I close my eyes a moment, count the spots I see behind them. “I love that song,” I say softly, and he gives a hum of acknowledgment. He probably knows that, I’m sure. It makes me smile a bit in spite of myself.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop that.”

“I broke down like an idiot in the middle of sex. I think I should apologize.”

“What for? If something upset you, cry about it. It’s what crying is for.”

“Cause you didn’t…finish. Cause I was crying. Like a moron.”

“Stop bringing yourself down.” His voice is stern and it makes me listen and shut up, though my mouth is open to say something else self degrading. “Jesus, can you say something nice about yourself for once?” He sounds like he’s mad at me…for saying bad shit about myself. Which makes no sense. At all. “You’d have thought you killed someone from the way you talk about yourself. Stop.”

I say nothing. Instead, I pull away from him and scoot over to the end of the bed, where it’s cold, and curl up, tug the sheets around me, and close my eyes. I’d apologize for hating myself but he’d just get pissed more, right? So I say nothing.

He sighs, growls a bit.

“You’re still doing it. I can hear you.”

I refuse to open my mouth. I figure I’ll lay here till I fall asleep and get up in the early morning and do the walk of shame back to the hostel. And I’ll sob in Kryssi’s arms and go to the Toulouse show and then I’ll go home. And that will be that.

I’ll probably start hating him, now, though. I’ll grow distant and my blog will turn into something else. I’ll delete all his pictures from my computer. I’ll get rid of all the fics and burn his poster and I won’t listen to Mars ever again. Instead, I’ll stare at myself naked in the mirror and sob about how stupid I was to let him ever touch me…

“Melanie…” He sounds so fucking sad. Jesus. “Please. I’m not mad at you.”

I still don’t talk. Pride won’t let me…fear of fucking up worse either. “At all. I’m just…I just don’t want you hating yourself over something you needed to do.”

I blink. Stiffen. “I didn’t need to cry,” I say, haughtily, and sniffle. “I don’t know why I cried-” “You needed to-” “-but I didn’t need to. I don’t need anything.” And that’s bullshit. Because right now I need to stop being an asshole to someone who’s trying to be nice to me. He could kick me out of bed but he hasn’t. Stop being so fucking sweet, Shannon, be an asshole and make me leave so I won’t fall for you any harder than I have. Jesus. “Lying doesn’t suit you, pretty girl,” he says softly, and I try to not cry again. Oh god. Something in my heart feels like it’s been shot, like there’s an arrow stuck in it.

Oh. Hello there, Cupid. Why the fuck are you bothering me again?

“C’mere.”

I don’t move for a few long seconds but my body has a mind of it’s own and I’m cold anyhow and he’s so damn warm…so I scoot over towards him. He wraps me into his arms yet again and he makes me face him this time. I’m staring over his shoulder and at anything but his eyes because I won’t win if he makes me… “Look at me, please.” Not the please. Anything but the please. “Please?”

He wins.

I glance up at him and I’m caught there and I couldn’t move if I tried, so I don’t. His hands smooth the skin of my face, tangle into my hair, and his fingers massage my scalp. He simply looks at me, content with staring into my eyes, and I want to run and hide and disappear because I simply can’t handle the way he’s looking at me. “What are you thinking about?” he asks me, finally and I really don’t know if I can tell him what I’m truly thinking about. About sitting in the tub in the morning at the hostel or about the bruises I’ll wear on my thighs, about the hicky on my neck, and how I’ll cover that up. “Tomorrow,” I whisper, and he sighs. “Don’t think about tomorrow. Think about nothing. Just…be here now.” “Why not?” I look away, and frown, willing myself to not cry again. “Because tomorrow’s just an excuse away.” I look up at him and open my mouth and he smiles a little and for fucks sake, there’s not stopping this. I wish to god I was stronger. I’m not.

I’ve fallen in love with him. Fuck.

I smile back, though I want to sob.

“And you…can make it last forever…” He laughs then, and every nerve in my body relaxes and I don’t want to curl up and rock myself to sleep now. I just want to lie here in his arms and listen to his heart beat and enjoy his warmth.

Oh. And maybe have some more sex, because being sad doesn't necessarily stifle the libido.

Shannon flips me over then, kissing me, passionately, as if he’s trying to make me forget anything in the world that would hurt. It works, honestly, it does. Like a charm. The only thing I can think about now is him, on top of me, and then, as he works his mouth along my skin, and as I spread my thighs and he settles between them, him, inside me.

He makes love to me. Slowly. Softly. For what seems like forever. It’s not, but it goes on and on and I drink every bit of it in. He sings and hums and kisses my eyes, my nose. He laces our fingers together and as he rocks me, back and forth, to the built up intense orgasm he’s staved off for an hour, he presses his forehead to mine and watches me, in awe, as I cum.

And for a little while, even though I know this will kill me later, I pretend he’s in love with me too.


	6. Part Six

Shannon’s watching me, again. From his spot on the bed, head on my tummy.

His hands slide up my sides, rest between my breasts, his fingers stroke the skin there. I shiver a bit, mostly because it tickles and a little because I’m chilly again. He hasn’t said much in the last hour, just let me talk and talk and talk, and so I do. He smiles as he watches me, eyes glowing as the city below us buzzes even still, at 3 am. I stretch a little and he lifts his head, and as I grip the plush pillow behind me, easing back down onto the sheets, he kisses my belly, the scruff of his chin scraping gently against hit. I shiver again, and he hums, slides his hands back down until they’re wrapped around my hips, and rests his head back where it was.

I could lay like this the rest of my life. 

I stop talking after a while and listen to the silence. I can hear him breathing, soft and steady, deeply. I can hear the pounding of my own heart, though calmed. I can even hear the tick of his watch somewhere across the room, on the table. If I listen heard enough I could hear the ding of an elevator down the hall and the soft music from the street below. The French sure know how to party. 

My fingers slide into his hair and tug, and I sigh, staring at the ceiling, the sheet casually strewn against me a little, semi covering my shins and half of my left side as Shannon lays on my right. “What are you thinking about?” I ask, my voice as quiet as it’s been because in the dim light of the single lamp on the night stand, it doesn’t seem right to talk any louder. I’m scared I’ll break some kind of ambiance if I do. “You.” I tilt my head and meet his eyes when he lifts his head a bit, and his smile makes my heart melt.

Sighing internally, I chide myself a little for giving in to this, but honestly…there’s no turning back now, is there? I’ll deal with the morning’s pain when it gets here. I’m not in the mood to think about it, not when he’s slowly massaging my body, when he’s warm and solid against my skin. Not when he’s lying beside me like a lover would.

“And why would you be thinking about me, when I’m right here?” I ask, smiling a little, and scratch his scalp some more, making him purr in pleasure. He closes his eyes a bit and then exhales across my bare skin. “Because you’re the only thing I can think about at the moment, if we’re being honest.” He props his head up so he can look at me and I plump the pillows a bit so my head’s propped up more. I give a shy, somewhat nervous laugh and struggle with my heart’s need to melt into a puddle of goo. “Ah, you sweet talker you,” I coo and he chuckles, deep voice heating me up a few notches. Ah. He keeps that up and I won’t need him to crawl on top and be my personal heater, though I’d definitely prefer if he did. ”Oh, my sweet, I’m not sweet talkin’. Just telling the truth.” He pauses, hums a little and shifts his gaze from me to my belly in thought.

“You’re so beautiful. You know that?”

I shrug. I’m not. I’ll never think I’m beautiful, no matter who tells me. But don’t think I wasn’t this close to tearing up because hearing that from him, well…yeah. It kinda meant the world. “Nope. Would have never guessed,” I said with a soft laugh, though it was a touch hollow. He lifts his eyes to my face again, trying to read my expression. “Well, you are. You’re incredibly beautiful. Wanna know where?” I shrug again. I’m this close to curling up and crying and blocking out every sweet beautiful thing he says because letting myself believe that this man thinks this about me for real is going to kill me. Especially when I realize he’s probably said this a million times to a million other girls. 

A million is an exaggeration, of course, but…well. Whatever. Don’t cry, Mel. Just…don’t….don’t cry. 

“Here.” He presses his finger, his thick, calloused forefinger, onto my belly and I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. I say nothing though. “And here.” He slides that finger down my belly and it quivers as his fingertip slides gently against my skin. He stops, right above the patch of dark curls between my legs. Sliding his finger, along with his middle finger, down, further, between those curls, he starts to stroke me. I give a little moan and lift my hips some, spread my thighs. “Oh really, now?” I whisper and he laughs. “Oh yes. Very very much so.” And his voice drops about four octaves and it makes me fucking crazy, I’m so hot, so fucking turned on.

“Let’s see…what else, my sweet? Ah…” Shannon strokes me the entire time, slow as molasses, just enough to get me worked up. I hum and twist a bit but I’m fine with the pace honestly, mostly because we’ve been like this the last few times, languid and slow. He moves up my body but keeps his fingers on me and he’s hovering over me, hands between my legs, nose nearly touching mine.

“Your lips…your lips are perfect. And your eyes are too. I’m a little partial to your nose, regardless of that little bump. Gives it character. Your face is beautiful, your throat, your collar bone…” He slips those fingers inside me then and I gasp, moan, shift my hips up and move them in slow circles in time with him. He laughs some, and it’s enough to make me cum, nearly, because of just what his voice does to me.

Can we pause and talk about that voice of his a minute? Sure? Great.

See, it’s like…it’s like butter. Chocolate butter. And it’s silky but gruff, smooth but gritty. It’s deeeeeeeep. DEEEEEEEEP. It’s like, Mariana’s Trench deep. (Okay, not that deep, but shit…close.) When he’s sick, it gets deeper, when he’s singing it gets deeper, whenever he’s fucking and he’s whispering the nastiest shit into your ear, that voice drops like a two dollar whore’s panties. It’s the sexiest damn thing in the word, second to maybe his back, right above his eyes. I could drown in his eyes. I could get lost and never come back and just give up on life over his voice. He could read me a chemistry text book and my ass would be hot and bothered, wound up, ready to cum buckets, just over the way he said molecule. The way his breath kind of rushes out sometimes after a word. The way he lets the timbre of his speech vibrate in the air.

He does it on purpose sometimes, let’s be honest. Just like right now.

“Mmmm, yes, and your breasts…” I snort then, though I’m breathy and panting a bit. He could stroke a bit faster, really, yep. “They’re barely there,” I say, gasping some when he finds my spot and massages it. “Barely there? They’re perfect though.” He leans over, takes a nipple into his mouth, and sucks on it, letting it leave his mouth with a plop. “See? They’re perfect. And my mouth is a little bit attached to them.” He grins then and I can’t help but laugh even as I’m moan some because he’s going a bit faster now. Yessss right there, good, keep that up. “But you know what’s the most beautiful thing about you, physically?” I close my eyes, let the pleasure build up bit by bit and moan a soft yes. 

“Your skin.” Shannon pulls his fingers out then, and I huff, a bit frustrated but curious and confused at his last words. I watch him suck his fingers into his mouth and moan and it just turns on the faucets. Oh dear god… “My skin?” I ask, and pull him closer to me as he slides his body on top of mine. “What’s so fascinating about my skin?” He leans in for a soft kiss, his lips warm and deliciously gentle on mine, and I lose myself in it, melt into him. He pulls away with a satisfied sigh, and smiles. “Your skin is heaven. Your skin is delicious and creamy and salty sweet. Your skin stretches-” and he lets his hands roam my body, down my sides and onto my hips and up my thighs to my knees “-across your muscle and bone, your flesh. It covers and wraps around you and it’s absolutely beautiful.” He reaches forward and lifts my chin, makes me meet his eyes.

“Don’t you ever let anyone tell you it’s anything less than perfect, either. Don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re less than a person because of it. You’re magnificent, and your skin is just the chocolate covered icing on top.”

Aw well fuck, there goes that whole not crying shit, cause I’m sobbing like a child again. But this time it’s quiet and he kisses my tears and all I can do his hold him for all it’s worth. He parts my legs and settles between my thighs and we kiss, slow and deep, for what seems like ages. He caresses me, strokes me, nibbles and bites and kisses my skin, my neck, my chest. When we finally join, I’m a little out of my mind, ready for him, needing him so much. He takes his sweet time, rocking and shifting on top of me, and he cradles my head as his lips capture mine. My orgasm is a slow rolling delicious thing, the sort of creeping kind where you can feel it in your toes and anticipate it as it winds itself all the way up your body. He groans and shudders inside me, spilling him seed, and slows his thrusts as he comes down. And he tucks himself in the crook of my neck, lying to my side some, but still on top of me, just enough to keep me warm like I want him to.

I don’t exactly remember when I fell asleep but I didn’t nap long, maybe another hour and a half. When I woke up he was still snuggled beside me, sleeping himself, his long dark lashes touching his cheeks, his face peaceful. He looked barely 30, younger than he even usually did, no matter the grey that spotted his beard, no matter the few wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. I kissed both his eyelids and his nose, and he didn’t even stir, simply breathed deeply, rested.

I spent the next hour laying in bed, watching him a little, thinking. My stomach churned at the thought of leaving in the morning light, probably to not see him again, and though I knew this was going to happen when I came up here, it didn’t make the parting seem any less painful than it was going to be. I was going to have a hard time sleeping alone after this, a hard time lying in bed after this, a hard time doing anything besides wanting to be in his arms, in his bed. Fuckin’ hell…I was already addicted.

He stirred, finally, as 5 am rolled around and blinked, stretched. “That wasn’t a very long sleep,” I murmured, softly, and he smiled, kissed my chin and snuggled against me. “I’ve got the day off, so I can sleep all day if I want.” I froze. I’d forgotten about the day between shows, forgotten that he wasn’t going to have to leave first thing in the morning. Maybe… “You want breakfast yet, or is it too early?” I shook my head. “Honestly, I’m not hungry yet.” I rolled over a bit and faced him and he pushed hair out of my eyes, his still sleepy hazel ones blinking slowly, lazily. “I think maybe in a few hours I will be…but not just yet.” He hummed in agreement and we were silent again for a bit, just watching each other, his fingers caressing my skin underneath the covers. And then he leaned forward and kissed me again, slow and soft and pulled me against his warm, naked body. I shuddered, my libido kicking back into gear once more.

“I’m glad you can’t get enough of me, baby,” he whispered, biting down on my neck gently and I moaned, clenching involuntarily. God, I was already wet, already hot and throbbing. “Cause I can’t get enough of you…fuck…” He pushed my thighs open with his knee and rolled us over so he was on top, and I opened my legs wider to accommodate him. “You’re kind of irresistible,” I said, grinning as he gripped my hips, as his mouth worked its magic down my neck and collarbone. “Am I really? Well, shit, you’ll make an old man blush,” he responded with a chuckle. “Roll over for me,” he said, and I did, wondering just what he was up to, until he started his hot kisses down my spine, his hands still on my hips. He urged my ass up just a little and slid behind me, his cock teasing my entrance and I swallowed, hard, panting while he glided one hand down to stroke my clit, hard slow circles. “Shannon…I want it hard…please. Hard and fast and…just…fuck…” He kissed my ear and I throbbed harder as he breathed heavily into my ear. “Whatever you wish, my sweet,” he whispered, and plunged inside me.

I arched my back, eyes tightly closed, mouth open, as he began to thrust. Jesus, he knew exactly what I wanted. His pacing was controlled and determined, hard, punishing thrusts that bordered between painful and breathtakingly pleasurable. I could do nothing but grip the sheets beneath me, my head hanging down as I gasped and moaned, crying out against the pillows as he took me. He drove inside me, slow enough to stave off my orgasm and torment me, but fast enough to make me believe it was just around the corner. One hand came up to my scalp and grabbed a fistful of my hair, tugging back hard, but not enough to hurt too much. I moved with him, and pressed my hand against his fingers that stroked my clit. “Fuck..fuck, I’m…fuck,” I gasped, certain I would fall then, but he slowed down, keeping me a hairs length from cumming, whispering naughty, dirty things in my ear in that deep voice of his. 

“You wanna cum, don’t you? I’ll make you cum, baby. Just be patient.” Shannon chuckled and feasted on my shoulders, my back, kissing the spot behind my ear and moaning into it. “Fuck, you make me so crazy,” he continued, whispering, just loud enough so I could hear, groans and gasps of his own pleasure punctuating his words. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. “I want to make you mine, all mine…I want to make love to you every night and every day the rest of my life. I need your body so much, baby…fuck…you’re perfect. You’re so fucking beautiful, so fucking sexy. Goddamn….just…fuckin’…keep moving like that…don’t stop. Don’t stop and I won’t I promise.” I cried out and arched my back, my head tossed onto his shoulder and pushed against him faster. I needed him, so badly, I need to cum so hard that it hurt. I was throbbing and aching with so much need I swore I would crack into pieces. “Shan…Shannon, c’mon, please…please, make me cum. Please, I need…oh fuck…please…” He smacked my ass, hard enough to sting and then withdrew, making me nearly sob in frustration, before he pushed my thighs wide open, and then slid deep inside me again.

I angled my hips up and met his thrust, fast, hard, depserate thrusts. I was hungry, he was starving. I needed his body, he craved mine. And as I held on, fingernails digging deep into his flesh again, carving battle scars there, he circled and worked his hips in just the right spots to drive me closer and closer to the edge. Oh dear god…I was almost there, almost ready to fall. He stroked my cheek, one thick thumb coming down to my open lip and I bit it softly, tasting the salt of his fingers. “Come on baby…right there,” he groaned and he worked me, slowing his thrusts down but making them more powerful so that my body rocked and shifted across the bed. “Come on…that’s my girl, cum for me…I wanna see you come, it’s so fucking beautiful, fuck…yes, I can feel it, I can, yes cum for me love.” And I did, clenching around him so hard he had to stop moving, my body tensed and curled around his, a long scream of intense pleasure ripped from my throat. I swear, in that moment, as it went on and on, that I probably blacked out. I couldn’t see or breathe, all I could do was feel him inside me, pushing against my spot, milking every drop out of me.

He slowed down, as I gasped and panted desperately for air. I held on to him still though my nails eased out of his skin and I discovered I’d broken it again, drawing blood. He seemed to like it, even as he hissed. Snuggling my face into his neck I fought to breathe, calm my heart down, and wiggled my hips only to realize he was still hard as a rock. Oh…oh dear.

“Shannon,” I moaned out and he chuckled, still moving, slowly. “I’m not done yet, baby girl. Not by a long stretch.”

I swallowed and pulled him down into a kiss, ready for every thing he’d give me.

“Bring it on.”


	7. Part Seven

“C’mere.” He scoots me down, down to nearly the edge of the bed where he’s laid out. And suddenly he’s directly face to face with my hoo ha. “Wanna know something?” he asks, and sits up, leans back. “The sounds you make when I’m eating you out are the sexiest goddamn things on the fucking planet. God.” I give a breathy laugh and swing my knees some, throbbing still, and soaking wet. I just wish he’d dive in and devour me like he’s been starving for months, but instead he simply moans a bit and…stares. At the hoo ha. Um…

“Bae,” I say, sitting up some, and he suddenly presses a hand gently on my chest, urges me to lie back down. “No, no…wait just…baby do something for me?” I lift my hands and shrug. “Yeah, sure I…are you gonna…” “Just…just touch yourself for me. Please?” I stall and stare at him as well as I can over my chest and realize he’s serious. And really fucking turned on because his dick’s swollen and near purple and leaking precum like a faucet. Goddamn. Well, if the pussy’s got that kind of effect…I can oblige.

I suck in a breath and swallow my nervousness, not even sure why I’m nervous considering he now completely and utterly knows me in the Biblical sense. (And when I say completely, I mean completely…he’s been inside me, on top of me, underneath me, he’s tasted and touched and seen every inch of me…so, yeah.) Sliding my fingers down, in a slow, seductive sort of fashion, I close my eyes and simply enjoy the feeling of my fingers on my sweaty skin, shivering as my fingertips graze my lower lips. I can hear him breathing, panting nearly and I open my eyes to find him focused on me, his lip between his teeth, eyes dilated and heavy with lust. I can’t help but grin cause man…ego booster much? This man wants me that much? Yeah, self esteem level shooting up by 100. My fingertips find my clit and I moan a bit, it’s still swollen, still raw and really sensitive. I let both fingers slide inside of me and start to grind my palm against my clit as I thrust my fingers, back and forth, in and out of me. My hips lift and move with my hand and I’m losing myself until I hear him choke out a groan.

My eyes open and he’s a sight; he’s leaning over me now, between my thighs, one hand steadying him, and the other is working his cock. I can’t look away. I don’t really want to. It’s too fucking hot how he’s stroking and pumping, his hips moving against his hand, his mouth open, his eyes never leaving my hand. It spurs me on and I’m actively fucking myself, gripping the sheets with my free hand, my other moving fast and swiftly. “Shannon…” I moan out, swallow, lick my lips. He meets my eyes and gives me his full attention, stopping even his own pleasure to focus on what I want. God…he’s so fucking generous. I let my free hand wander down his neck, his chest, fingers sliding against salty sweaty skin, and circle his navel. He shudders. “Yes?” he answers in that impossibly deep, delicious voice of his. When I say that voice does things for me…it does things for me. I clench involuntarily around my still stroking fingers and can’t help but cry out. I’ll cum…I just need… “Shan, baby…lose yourself,” I whisper. He watches me a few seconds, a little confused, before I slip my fingers out of me and gesture towards him. He takes them into his mouth with a moan, humming in pleasure as he sucks my honey from them. 

I’m not sure there’s really anything hotter than that, truthfully. 

I swear on everything his eyes were glowing in the dark. Shannon licks his lips and then presses a kiss to my palm before moving above me. “No, no no…” I push at his chest gently and stroke his jawline. He’s really confused now. “You want me…to lose myself, right? In you? Not hard, but…how can I if you won’t…” I shake my head, smile and scratch the back of his neck. “I want you to lose yourself. In yourself, really, just…stop focusing on me for a second.” He blinks, sits back on his knees and then it clicks.

Oh.

Ohhhhh okay.

“Well shit, babe…all you had to do was ask me to jerk off for ya,” he says with a grin and I snort. “That doesn’t sound half as romantic as ‘lose yourself’,” I reply and he laughs then, lets out a breath.

“You’re not…nervous, are you?” I question, teasing a bit. It’s strange to see him flustered like this, skin flushed and hands shaking. “I can’t say that I ever do this in front of anyone but myself,” he confessed, and let his hands wander slowly, down down down to his hard erection. “But,” he gasps out, starting his strokes again, eyes slipping closed, “I’ll make an exception for you…fuck…I’ll…do anything you want me to…” And he groans then, as his hands work at a fast, steady pace. I watch him, so turned on it’s ridiculous, but perfectly fine just watching him. He does, in fact, lose himself, every bit of himself, as he masturbates, one hand gripping the sheets as he leans forward and works his hips with his hand. He’s panting, growling, whimpering even and his eyes are shut tight. I wonder what he’s thinking about as he pleasures himself…wonders if it’s about me.

The very thought kind of scares me.

I don’t dare ask, though. I’m not fucking up this trance he’s in. He’s moving now, the bed kind of shaking beneath me as he pumps away, alternating his hands fast, then slow, then back again. He’s on the verge of something but it seems like it’s fleeting, slipping just past him then dancing closer every so often. “Baby, baby, fuck…” he pants out, letting his palms slide past the soft skin of his cock and off the tip. He’s so fucking hard, practically throbbing as precum soaks his hand. “I can’t…I fucking can’t do this shit.” I frown, move closer to him. “Why?” “Cause…” He swallows and opens his eyes. “You’re right here and I can smell you and taste you in my mouth still and hear you breathe, but fuck…I need…I need to be inside you, making you cry out. I can’t…shit,” he mumbles and then grabs my thighs roughly, pushing them open as wide as he can. “Shit, Shannon!” I squeak in surprise, but lets’ be real…I’m not complaining. He takes me then, in one hard, powerful thrust and it makes both of us shudder, cry out, me clench around him, and he begins to move then, desperately. 

He couldn’t be unselfish if he wanted to. Bless his heart. 

There aren’t words then, just cries and moans and pants and gasps and more and yes. I move with him and actively work my body to make him cum, but he holds out, fully intent on making me cum first. He won’t make it though…he’s too far gone and I use it to my advantage. As fast as my own pleasure is building up, taking me, I want to watch this, I want to see him cum. “Come on baby,” I whisper, right in his ear, my voice shaking with need, and he whimpers in defiance. “Come on…lose yourself.” I grip his has and pull him closer, my hips moving in perfect timing with his and then he can’t stop, can’t hold back. He pushes forward, jerkily and uncoordinated, the thrusts of a man so close to something so good he doesn’t give a fuck how he sounds or what he looks like. He’s lost then, and he’s cumming and he give a sort of strangled, overtaken cry as the orgasm sweeps him away. “Fuck…fuck! Fuck fuck fuck yes, fuck,” he chants, over and over, my name somewhere in the middle and it’s really, in a word, awe inspiring. He doesn’t stop until he’s filled me, until he’s a puddle of goo between my thighs, head on my chest as he tries to suck in air. 

I haven’t cum, and truthfully, I’m quite okay with that. He isn’t. Minutes pass and he’s doing the most to get strength to push himself up on both arms, sliding out of me, then crawling down my body. “Um…Shannon, reallly, you don’t have to…oh fuck, fuck what are…fuck…” Thick fingers and a strong tongue are stroking, nibbling, devouring me and I’m still wound up and on fire and it doesn’t take very long until I’m in pieces around him, as he licks up every drop, as he hums in contentment and lays his head back down, this time on my quivering belly.

“How was that for losing myself?” he asks, some time later and my fingers scratch through his scalp lazily. I don’t think I could stand up if I wanted, though I’m hungry as fuck right now and would love a piece of fruit from the table. “Quite…delicious,” I say softly. “What were you thinking about?” “You, of course,” he says with a chuckle, and traces hearts on my hip, lets his fingers wander up my sides to tickle my ribs. I squirm and laugh. “Me? Oh…and what about me?” He presses a kiss into my tummy and takes in a deep breath of me. “Your hips, your thighs, your lips, your breast, your skin…your everything.” I swallow and listen to the tick tock of the watch on the table, the hum of the city below us. “You’re perfect, you know that?” he asks, lifting his head a bit and propping it up on his hand. “You are perfection…every inch of you. Your toes, your fingers, your eyes, your nose.” He sighs, snuggles into me. Watches me, a smile on his face, hazel eyes caressing every inch of me. “I’m the farthest thing from perfect, Shan,” I whisper, trying to not cry, trying to not let my brain win right now. You’re really nothing, you’re not worthy of him, he’ll forget you by next week. Shut up. Stop dreaming, stupid girl. He doesn’t want you, he already got what he wants. Shut. Up. I’m not winning and my brain is and my body wants to pull away from him but he won’t let me.

“Stop thinking,” he says. “Stop worrying about what’s going to happen later, about anything, really. I’m here, I ain’t leaving anytime soon. I want you, right now, that’s all I want. To be with you.” I shake my head, blink back tears, and huff in frustration. Jesus. “Mel…” Shannon wraps his arms around me then and cradles me close to him. “Stop. Thinking. Now.” He presses a kiss to my lips to distract me and, after some time, it works…and I melt into him, into the way he feels against me, the way he smells, tastes. I’m curled up around him and he’s holding me like I’m the most important thing on the planet and all that niggling doubt melts away like ice. He pulls away with a soft smile and I sigh, bury my face into his neck. “I’m hungry,” I finally say, he nods. “So am I. French toast and eggs sound good, huh?”


End file.
